


This Is All Under Control

by lucymonster



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Double Penetration, F/M, Gags, Gang Rape, HYDRA Trash Party, Hurt No Comfort, Misogyny, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-17 03:31:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16966872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucymonster/pseuds/lucymonster
Summary: Steve has never really understood what Natasha learned at a young age: pain is subjective. Open to interpretation.If she gets her way, he's never going to find out.





	This Is All Under Control

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HereInLies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HereInLies/gifts).



She’s dreaming of Steve. In the back of her mind Natasha knows it’s a dream, because the Steve she knows wouldn’t dream of hurting her like this.

Once, she tried to come onto him after a high-adrenaline mission and a handful of celebratory beers. His cock had hardened at the barest pressure of her hand at his crotch, spots of red appearing on his cheeks like the overflow from ninety-five years of loneliness and sexual frustration. He’d detached himself anyway. Poured her a glass of water and said he wouldn’t take advantage of her in her compromised state.

Steve has never really understood what Natasha learned at a young age: pain is subjective. Open to interpretation. The concrete floor is cold and rough, scraping her bare skin with every jolt of movement, but Steve’s hands are warm as they hold her hips up just high enough to let him enter her body. She’s sore. Tender. How long this has been going on, she doesn’t know. She takes Steve inside her and feels his cock stretch her open, thrusting roughly – eagerly, _wanting_ her, this is fine, she can take it. Pressure throbs in her skull. The colours all around her are cinematic, but her eyes are still closed. Everything feels so heavy.

She’d like that glass of water now.

‘I think she’s coming around,’ says a voice. ‘Thank fuck, I was getting bored.’

Natasha winches an eye open, and regrets it. She’s in a basement of some kind. Her protective fantasy shatters into razor-sharp shards that fall neatly into place alongside the broken beer bottles and looming, shadowy men she can see in her peripheral vision.

Everything is brick walls, patchy fluorescent lighting and an ugly rust-brown stain on the concrete in front of her. The best real estate Hydra can afford, these days, now that she and Steve have effectively dismantled their network. They were … the man bottoms out inside Natasha, and she feels searing nausea as a cock pounds the tender wall of her cervix. They were following their latest lead on a bolthole in the Bay Area. Weapons cache. Laundered funds. Thoughts are like mist, swirling in her mind, coalescing in shapeless fog on the walls, impossible to corral in any direction. Fuck, her head hurts.

Doesn’t matter. ‘Hope I haven’t missed too much of the party,’ she forces herself to say, and it comes out more like a gurgle than a sentence but she feels instantly more herself for trying. What’s happening here isn’t ideal, but she can take it. For the mission. Whatever the fuck the mission is. Steve will know. He won’t be far away now.

The guy who’s raping her doesn’t falter, but she gets a reaction from someone else: man, black BDU gear, little under six foot tall. She doesn’t recognise his face when he crouches down in her field of view. ‘Don’t you worry, Widow,’ he says, grabbing a handful of her hair to pull her head up off the floor. Helpful of him. She scans the room with her increased field of vision, ignoring the pain in her head and neck, focusing on the workbench in the corner and the broken sofa pushed up against the wall and the tank that looks like a hot water heater chugging away beside it. ‘The party’s only just starting.’

This place really is nothing more than someone’s basement. No defenses. No security. If possible, she’d prefer to extract herself before Steve arrives to see her in this state, naked and temporarily helpless in a room full of idiots who think they have the best of her. But as a backup plan, it’s nice to know that those brick walls won’t keep Steve out for long. If it comes to that. Which it won’t.

There are about half a dozen men assembled, all dressed in the same debranded Strike uniforms with mismatched guns strapped to their bodies. No one she recognises from any of her old SHIELD missions. They really are scraping the bottom of the barrel now – all the serious Hydra operatives are dead or in jail, or else too far in the wind to risk blowing their cover on a petty revenge bid like this.

But they get credit for managing to bring her in. There was … something in her drink? Stupid. She should have been more careful. The guy drops her head, and in moving to brace herself, Natasha learns that her hands are cuffed behind her back. Her head hits the floor with a dull thud, punctuated by the increasingly erratic thrusts of her rapist approaching his big moment.

She can’t help her lip curling in disgust when he spills, wet and unpleasantly sticky when he pulls out. She’s not expecting much of a reprieve, so she’s not disappointed when a new assailant settles in behind her and immediately unzips his fly. Shoves his cock straight into the sloppy mess the last guy left. This one is smaller, but he makes up for it by pulling her up on her knees with her ass in the air and her head pushed down and each thrust hits so deep she wants to vomit.

‘Fucking whore,’ the guy spits. ‘You’re so loose, I could fit the whole team in here.’

‘Sure, if the whole team are as small as you,’ says Natasha through her nausea. ‘I hear they make a pill for that – I get emails about it sometimes.’

‘Funny,’ says the guy. ‘You’re a funny little slut, aren’t you? Let me see if I can do something to wipe that smirk off your face.’ He pulls out, still holding her hips like a vice, and Natasha has about a split second’s warning before –

Jesus _fuck_. The guy rams his cock inside her ass and it hurts like a knife to the gut, splitting her open inch by agonizing inch as her body seizes up against the invasion. She gasps for breath. Scrunches her eyes shut to stop the tears, bites her tongue to stop the scream. Her reaction is all she can control right now. Stay calm, relax and take it, and then later on when their guard is down she'll find a chance to slit their throats – no mess, no fuss, no need to panic. Breathe. Don't scream. Breathe.

‘I see two spare holes,’ her assailant says, sickly smug. ‘What are you boys all waiting in line for?’

He pulls her upright in his lap and hooks his legs through hers to spread them wide apart. His cock stays buried to the hilt in her ass, and the pressure is almost unbearable but at least he’s not thrusting. Natasha breathes deep and wills her muscles to relax around him. She’s had worse than this, so much worse. It can only hurt her if she lets it.

A new stranger kneels down between her legs and strokes her exposed cunt with a rough gloved hand. She winces when he pushes two fingers inside her, chafing her raw skin, feeling out the bulge of his colleague’s cock through her thin inner wall. The guy behind her makes an ugly little grunting sound.

‘Natasha Romanov,’ says the new guy. There’s a scar on his face, a spidery latticework of shredded skin regrown under his left eye. He pulls his fingers out of her and cups her cheek, a sneering show of mock affection that smears leftover semen and lube on her skin. ‘A lot of guys I know have spent a lot of time waiting for the chance to put you in your place. Maybe I’ll invite them over for a turn once we’re done with you.’

Natasha just gazes back at him, flat and unblinking. It’s not worth the comeback. She’s sore and exhausted and she needs to save her energy to figure out an exit route. But of course scarface takes it as his victory. He’s smiling when he pulls out his cock and shoves inside her cunt, stretching her until it feels like she’s going to tear to shreds between the two points of intrusion.

And then the two of them start to move, and with two cocks pumping her battered body, it’s all Natasha can do to keep from screaming in pain and rage and disgust.

When they’re done with her? Fuck, when she’s done with _them_ , they’re going to bleed like they’ve never bled in their lives.

There are no more dreams of Steve for now. This is something he needs badly not to see, and it’s something she needs to compartmentalise. By the time he gets here to rescue her she needs to be already free and okay and dressed in her own clothes, because if he thinks a few beers make her too fragile to fuck, then he’ll never dream of laying a hand on her again once he sees what her body is going through now. She’ll be lucky if he’s even able to _look_ at her.

But her wrist bonds are holding strong, and it’s hard to focus on escape stunts when all she can feel or think is fuck no stop no no fuck. A third guy steps in over the top of her, pants down, balls dangling like a pendulum as he strokes his cock to hardness in her face.

Calling on every last bit of her training, she manages to keep her expression calm and scornful as she looks him over. ‘Good idea,’ she says. ‘Definitely put that in my mouth. I wouldn’t dream of biting.’

‘Oh, Romanov,’ says the guy with a smirk. ‘Don’t you worry about that – we’ve been planning this for a long time. We came prepared.’

Yet another Hydra goon steps forward, holding a sharp-pronged spider gag hanging from a black leather harness. Natasha swears. It’s not like it matters so much about her throat if they’re already using every other hole. But she was hoping to keep her range of vision. Escape is going to be harder than ever with her face buried in this guy’s belly paunch.

Bile churns in her gut, jolted by every erratic thrust from two rapists who’ve apparently never heard of teamwork. Her ass is on fire. Her pelvis is aching. The spider gag digs painfully into her cheeks and fills her mouth with an acrid tang of metal.

Rapist number three grabs her by the hair and shoves his disgusting cock into her open mouth. She’s never wanted anything more than she wants to clamp her jaw shut and taste blood.

‘There’s a good girl,’ he chuckles as he fucks her throat, adding yet another off-time rhythm to the onslaught of violation. ‘You know, Romanov, I actually kind of don’t hate you like this. Someone should have stuffed you full of cock a whole lot sooner.’ He has no idea that he’ll be dead within the next few hours. Sometime soon.

Before Steve gets here. That’s what matters most.

The guy behind her picks up his pace, splitting her ass open with every nauseating thrust, and before she can stop herself, Natasha lets out a pathetic little cry that no one outside this room can ever know escaped her mouth.


End file.
